


How Boys Learn To Be Men

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln contemplates how he provided his own escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Boys Learn To Be Men

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** Through the end of Season 1; dialogue lifted from various episodes.

  
_We can do no great things, only small things with great love._ ~Mother Theresa

_“We have to go. Tonight.”_

_“What’re you talking about?”_

_“Bellick found the hole, so either we go now, or it’s over.”_

_“Michael…”_

_“Look, I know it’s gonna be tight, but I can do this.”_

_“Michael, stop it.”_

_“Chains and locks…they’re…uh…”_

_“Michael—“_

_“—modified—“_

_“Michael!”_

_“I can do this!”_

_“Listen to me. Go. You gotta go.”_

_“Don’t say that!”_

_“Look at me! You can’t do this. There’s not enough time. If you stay here, they’ll nail you, and you’ll rot in here. I’m not asking ya, man, I’m telling ya. Leave me behind…_

_“Go.”_

 

 

_I walked in here a man. Help me walk out a man._

_I walked in here a man…_

To get myself through, to fight the rapidly building fear, to keep myself from screaming, I repeated it. I repeated it until it thrummed through my bloodstream like a sedative, calming me, holding me together. It worked miraculously, the way I’d heard people say prayer supposedly brought peace. Vee said that once, that she prayed sometimes. Maybe all that time I spend in the chapel has paid off. I only said I wanted to go there for a change of scenery, and of course, because Michael could come there, too.

I was ready to go. I was ready to _let_ go.

But now I’m back, waiting. Waiting, and the endless hope it gives Michael drives me crazy. It’s worse than the rest. Vee, she’ll be okay, because she’s left me behind before. LJ will be okay because he has to be, he’s always been resilient to the crap I dropped on him, and Vee will never let him go because he’s her last tie to me. They will be okay, and I have to believe that.

Michael, on the other hand—the frantic pivot of his eyes—if that stops because there’s nothing left to plan, no one left to save, what will he have then? What will he do then? I’ve always been there, even in a less than stellar capacity, I’ve been there. When everyone else failed him, I was there. When he wouldn’t have had a chance, I made chances happen for him. When we both shoulda ended up statistics, he became more. He was always more, and I made sure he got there. He did all the work once he was there, but I have to admit the pride I feel when I look at him. He became a good man despite the fact that he could have been me. He could have been the one who would’ve killed some guy for ninety grand but didn’t just because someone beat him to the punch. That could have been Michael, but for me. But for me giving up things for myself and making his life possible.

The funny thing is I never regretted it; I never envied him what he was, or how he got there. It was the least he deserved. Our lives should have been different. Knowing the truth about our father now makes that obvious. If I had the energy left to be angry, to hate, it would be dear old dad that faced the brunt of that, but I don’t. Understanding is it’s own healing. Knowing I couldn’t have done anything differently to give Michael every advantage—that’s my peace. That’s my one thing I got right in this sorry excuse for a life.

If Michael could see it for what it is, he’d leave tonight, he’d get out of this hellhole and he’d go get LJ and go to Panama. He’d be the father for what’s left of LJ’s childhood, and maybe make outta LJ a decent human being. He could give my son what I tried to give him; what our father never gave either of us. But Michael and his damn plan might ruin any chance that’s left. That’s what I should have told him after he slumped in defeat here in the floor of my cell. He stopped arguing with me, but I know his mind never stopped. I know he’s in his cell right now thinking like a hamster on a wheel. He’s going to come up against it at some point: the truth. This is where I’ll be when he makes his break for it. _Please, go, Michael. You never let me hold you back before, don’t start now._

 

 

_I loved you from the first time I saw you…._

Vee was always idealistic. That’s why she thought with a law degree in real estate she could figure out the reasons behind a government conspiracy. She’s not stupid, just naïve. She’ll be naïve the day she dies, unless all of this has changed her. That’s something I pray for in the chapel sometimes: That I haven’t changed her. I don’t want to be responsible for that. She told me once that she had wished for my baby in those years we fooled around without taking any precautions. Now she holds my son’s life in her hands, and I’m glad she’s got my baby. I know she’ll do better by LJ than I ever could, even if I weren’t trapped in a concrete cell.

In the moments that I let myself long for something, it’s always her. Not dad, not mom, not LJ, not even Michael, though I know what I owe him, what I’ll never get a chance to repay. If I believed in that crap about soul mates, I’d believe Veronica Donovan was mine. For those small blissful moments we had, that were apart from time, I could believe in one person being meant for another. Even if one of the people deserved so much more. But see, that’s what blows the theory away. You can’t be the soul mate of someone who isn’t your equal. I was never her equal, and the only thing I’ve ever given her is LJ. He’s the best part of me, so in a way, it’s fitting. It’s how I envision being peaceful in my grave, knowing she’s got his back.

“Burrows!”

I jerk with surprise and my head thumps against the stone wall. Michael left hours ago, and they’ve been known to forget my dinner, so I wasn’t expecting anything to interrupt my thoughts. “Yeah?”

The door to my cell opens and there stands a guard I don’t know well. “You’re being transferred to the Infirmary. Pope’s orders.”

I blink away my surprise as I get to my feet. _Michael, you son of a bitch. How did you do it?_

 

 

“Uncuff my brother.”

It’s with these words that our eyes lock and I begin to understand. All the sacrifices I made for Michael—the things I gave up or pretended I didn’t need—those were the things that robbed me of hope. I had to stop believing anything could ever turn out right for me, most of all, this. This was ending only one way--with my death.

But where I robbed myself of hope, I showered my brother with an abundance. His doubt circled only by time constraints, he always knew he could do it. He always knew he would save me. Because that’s what I taught him he could do.


End file.
